Page 75 of Monstrous Serpent

“Oh, no. Absolutely not.” I shove the marshmallows under my arm, strip the blanket off, then shake it out. “You trying to get us killed?”

I remake the bed. Corners tucked tight. Pillow centered. The comforter smoothed flat without a single wrinkle.

Perfect. Better than perfect. I should hire myself out for housekeeping because apparently, I'm capable of this when the stakes involve keeping my best friend from strangling me.

Closing the door, I step out into the common area and point toward my room. “Move it before he sees you.”

Mr. Smooshy trots into my room and jumps on the bed.

Damn, this place looks like there was a war between a laundromat and a snack machine. I should really clean it this weekend.

After closing my door, I make my way to the bed, then shove the pit bull to the side because he’s taken up two-thirds of the mattress, looking at me like he lives here and I'm the guest.

I tear open the marshmallow bag and toss one into the air. He catches it, then stares at me, tail thumping.

“Did you even chew that?” I pop one into my mouth, then offer him another. He inhales it, then pokes the bag with his nose. “You’re like a marshmallow vacuum cleaner.”

He better not choke, or I’ll never hear the end of it.

“What is your name anyway?” The bright yellow collar covered in tiny blueberries has no tag, no phone number, no name.

I blow out a breath.

How the fuck would anyone know where to return Mr. Smooshy if he ever got lost? Jenkins would lose his shit. “Looks like we might have to stop at the pet store and get you a tag.”

I shove another marshmallow into my mouth, grab my laptop from the nightstand, prop it on my thighs, then open it. Dr. Kapoor's communications paper is due Friday, and I haven't started it.

But how the hell am I supposed to focus when Hunter won’t give me a reason for why he passed me off to my teammates after the UConn game instead of walking with me himself? Had someone walk me back from class a few times this week too.

And that little shit Jenkins still hasn’t unblocked us.

“Ugh, I just want my best friend to come home and sit next to me. Is that too much to ask for, Mr. Smooshy?”

The dog wiggles closer until his whole body is pressed against my side like he’s trying to become part of my ribs. He shoves his head under my arm, and I automatically lift it so he can wedge himself closer.

He huffs.

“You were sleeping with Jenkins just like this when I first met you, weren’t you?”

They looked stupidly comfortable together. Hated disturbing them for about half a second, then Jenkins started having that wet dream. And yeah, sorry, that’s seared into my brain forever.

“Okay, let’s get this assignment done. No more procrastinating.”

Who am I even kidding?

I’ve been procrastinating since elementary school. Drove my family up the wall. Everyone was relieved when Hunter moved in and took over, keeping me on task. Except he hasn’t checked in once this week. He’s been too distracted and won’t tell me what’s going on.

Whatever.

It’s my degree anyway.

I type a thesis sentence. It's bad. I type another one underneath it.

Worse.

On the third try, something clunky but usable comes out, and I keep going because bad words on a page are better than no words.

“You want to do this for me?”